


The golden rule to become employee of the month

by Nova_Turient



Series: Scrambled (aka: Doctor and Master keep meeting in the wrong order) [5]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Breakfast in Bed, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Office Shenanigans, The Doctor Being the Doctor (Doctor Who), lucie has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Turient/pseuds/Nova_Turient
Summary: Everything is going fantastically for Harold Saxon. He has an office, a huge staff of humans that are terrified by him, and the perfect plan to conquer the known universe. He only misses a secretary. Luckily, the Doctor is there to fix that, and provide him the perfect opportunity to get his revenge.Now the only thing the Master needs to do is not tragically fall in love with him.
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Series: Scrambled (aka: Doctor and Master keep meeting in the wrong order) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101014
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	The golden rule to become employee of the month

* * *

Perks of being a rich human posing as Minister of Defence: live war report 24/7, people doing stuff for you.

Drawbacks: Everything else.

The Master aimed yet another paper plane at the bin and threw it with a ‘ _pew_ ’. It missed, falling beside the bin with a pathetic twirl at the end, he scowled at it. Hastily going to grab another sheet from the pile of stuff he needed to read, the Master didn’t even notice when the door to his office opened and closed, and the dull sound of stilettos on moquette reached his desk.

A cough. Another one, sharper.

The Master reluctantly looked up from his nearly finished jet fighter.

“A productive morning, Mr Saxon?” his assistant asked.

A growl “I’m busy.” he carefully tweaked the wings to make them symmetrical.

A new batch of folders fell on his desk, and he looked back up with a murderous glare. She just stared back evenly.

Lisa...no, Lydia? The Master couldn’t honestly remember her name, but he knew she was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he started working there. Mostly because, no matter how bad he treated her, it seemed to bounce right off her. His other secretaries fled after two weeks at best. This one was not yielding and was deadset on giving him a run for his money...

She has had worst bosses, she confessed him. When asked, she only said _insurance_ _companies._ A likely story, he had to concede, but he also knew it was just a filthy lie, and filthy lies spurred the Master curiosity like nothing else.

So, before he killed her for how annoyingly patronizing she was all the time, he really needed to know who exactly had the nerve to be a worst boss than him.

“We need to talk about your staff.”

The Master huffed, inspecting his paper creation “Are you lot complaining again?”

“We are always complaining, but I’m happy to see our letters receive the right amount of evaluation.” She glared at the plane as it gracefully glided inside the bin.

The Master hissed an excited ‘ _yes_ ’ and reached forward, but she snatched the new folders back into her hands

He grumbled and continued to ignore her presence.

“We have an opening.” she finally sighed.

“Mh?” he started folding another complaint letter into four.

“Evelyn just ran outside the door crying.”

He sneered “Who?”

“Your secretary.”

“I thought you were my secretary.”

Lisa or Lydia or whatever her name was winced “I’m your personal assistant, mate. Don’t you dare...”

He started snickering to himself. Even if he couldn’t kill her because of his own curiosity, he could still rile her up, that was just as fun to do.

She flattened the bundles of folders against the desk and coughed “I have the list of candidates right here, mind if I read it?”

With a proud hum, the Master placed his newly finished plane on the desk. He leaned forward, supporting his chin on the palm of his hands and looked up through half hooded eyes.

“Oh, Lisa-”

“Lucie.”

“-you can do whatever you want.” he drawled, grin widening as Lisa/Lydia, whose name was apparently Lucie, suppressed a groan and started listing the candidates and briefing their resume.

“Furlon Emma sounds like a good candidate, has lots of experience with _politicians_ …” she said it like she was insulting him and the Master just smirked, tuning off for the rest of the list. He didn’t care, one human was good as any. Whoever he chose, he didn’t think they would’ve lasted more than two days either.

Lucie kept on reading, and he kept his brains occupied by building a paper doll. He was about to place the doll inside the plane and send them into a suicide mission against the wall, when her words suddenly became much more interesting.

“Uhm...Smith John...sounds way too overqualified. Seymour Stephanie-”

“Wait! What was that?” he threw paper doll and plane behind his chair and leaned forward.

“Stephanie Seym-”

“Not that! The other one!”

She took the very bulky folder she just put at the bottom of the pile “John Smith?”

The Master nodded, an easy smile spreading on his face “You said...overqualified?”

“Well, he wrote a whole lotta stuff in his resume.” she commented, peering inside the folder “It’s thirty-six pages long, and there’s an ‘ _etcetera_ ’ at the end.”

The Master snatched the folder from her hands and opened it, his face twisting into a bigger grin every page he flipped.

“He didn’t provide a photo.” Lucie said as if that would’ve stopped him.

“I don’t think I’ll need it.” he flashed her his biggest threatening grin. Unfortunately for her, she was about to lose her place as most interesting thing that happened to him since he started working there “Tell him he can start tomorrow.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


The Master didn’t need to sleep, but he quite liked to lay in his bed and bask in the success of his schemes. That night, though, he was...jumpy, jumpier than usual. Couldn’t stop, couldn’t rest, his body electrified with glee. He spent the whole night pacing his room, looking in the mirror, laughing to himself while rehearsing his speech.

All the best for his honoured guest.

The Doctor...

The Doctor falling- no, willingly throwing himself in his trap. The Doctor in a position of disadvantage. The Doctor, the Master shivered during his fourth meeting of the day, forced to obey him. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve pinched himself. He had a mental list of things he could’ve forced him to do. Very humiliating and excruciatingly boring tasks the Doctor would’ve dreaded with all his cute little hearts.

The Master strolled towards his office, flashing grins left and right. He whistled an extremely flashy version of _Singing in the Rain,_ pulling off an improv number of very sloppy tip-tap when he reached his personal assistant’s desk. He leaned on the wooden surface with both hands.

“Good morning, Lara-”

“Lucie.”

“-is he here yet?”

Lucie peered up at him, raised an exasperated eyebrow and went on typing on the keyboard.

“He’s in your office.”

The Master leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She jerked back, spluttering in confusion.

“Splendid!” he leered “I don’t need you any more.”

“I-what?!” the Master strolled past her.

“You’re fired.” he singsonged.

“You can’t fire me!” she called, but he was already at the door, turning to her with a grin she’d better take as a warning, before pushing open the door to his office.

As expected, the Doctor was in the room.

Not as expected, the Doctor was propped up on his chair, legs crossed, with a bundle of papers in his hands. The Master’s smirk faltered. Not the Doctor he expected, not a Doctor he had much experience with, in fact. His memories of San Francisco were kinda fuzzy, and all in all he couldn’t have spent more than forty minutes with him in total. Yeah, he met him during the war too...but by that point he had mostly abandoned... _whatever_ phase he was in, when he decided that wearing long hair and a silk cravat was an acceptable fashion choice.

The Master straightened himself, faking a professional smile and letting the door click shut.

“Hello.” he said when the Doctor kept ignoring his presence.

The Doctor looked up, startled “Oh, hello! Mr Saxon, is it?” he smiled, waving at him with the papers “I was reading some of your thesis...fascinating stuff.”

When he went back to read through his personal belongings, the Master took a step forward, tilting his head.

“That’s my chair.”

“Yes, it is.” he lightly bounced on it as to prove a point “Very comfy.”

He smiled in that disgustingly kind way that made it difficult for the Master to keep looking at him. Glancing around his office, It didn’t take much to notice something was different. When he saw that his trash bin was now empty, and his usual backlog of work had disappeared from the side of his desk, the Master decided to ask.

“You touched anything?”

“I touched everything.” the Doctor sprung to his feet, rounding the desk “Organized your drawers, put those folders in alphabetical order, threw away your empty pens.” he pointed proudly as he went on “I think I dusted a bit too. Cleaning staff isn’t the best in here, is it?”

The Master blinked “All of that in five minutes?”

“Oh no, I arrived hours ago.” when the Master stare became outraged he added “My T— cab was a bit early…”

The Master didn’t know what pissed him off the most; the fact that the Doctor has been there for hours, the fact that the Doctor was one step from discovering his plans for Earth, or the fact that the Doctor, on his own accord, had just exhausted all of the very boring tasks he had planned to subject him to.

“I see.” the Master hissed through gritted teeth, forcing out a very painful smile “Mr. Smith, do you know what your role in this office is?”

“I’m your secretary.”

“And that implies?”

The Doctor blinked, finally aware of the evident tension in the room.

“I’m sorry, did I overdo it?” he asked, pointing behind him, to the now perfectly functional work station “First day. I was told it was good to make a strong impression-”

“It implies…” the Master continued, steering the Doctor’s attention back to him “That you have to obey every single order I give you without doubt or question.”

He laughed “Well, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“And that’s a question.”the Doctor’s mirth fell from his face, and the Master smiled with glee at the lost expression in his eyes.

He looked like a puppy. A cute innocent puppy with his hearts about to be shattered into pieces. The Master took a step forward.

“You have a desk of your own right outside this door, I believed it’s been cleared out for you already.” the Doctor tensed when he stepped uncomfortably close to him, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows “As far as I’m concerned, Mr Smith, I can’t wait to start _working_ with you.”

This up close the Master could see the gears turning inside the Doctor’s head, revelled in the way his eyes scanned his face and his jaw tightened at the threatening edge of his voice. The Master smile just widened into a wolfish grin.

He was about to have such a good time.

  
  


\-----

  
  


He was having such a miserable time.

Perks of being a rich human posing as Minister of Defence: at the moment, none.

Drawbacks: Having to work around human’s obtuse bureaucracy to get his plans going.

Human bureaucracy was probably the single worst thing he endured in the last couple millennia, and he’d been burned to a crisp during that time. It eerily reminded him of his first year at the Academy, when he had to write a twenty thousand word essay on Rassilon’s legal reform. At least then, he’d managed to sneak in some barely veiled jeers at the utter bastard. Sure, Borusa was a bit upset, but it was all worth it in the end...the Doctor laughed his ass off that time...

This time there was no amount of sardonic remarks that would’ve saved him from filling, reading and signing hundreds of boring papers written by boring humans.

He couldn’t even pin this on someone else, it was all about Lazarus funding and getting Lazarus to pull off his ill intended experiment. It was a crucial part of his plan, and he could not let this thing fail.

It would’ve been easy if absolute monarchy was still a thing. He could’ve done so much with an army of brainless knights and some goblets of poisoned wine. He missed his medieval days so much…curse the Doctor for trapping him into that time frame.

Speaking of the devil, the door opened but didn’t close, clear sign that the Doctor just came in.

“The door.” the Master grumbled, face pressed against the fine print of yet another useless document.

The door clicked shut and he hummed, looking up to see a black cup of steaming hot coffee.

“I like tea.” he complained.

“Me too.” the Doctor commented, placing the cup on his desk and heading towards the door.

He huffed as the Doctor shuffled outside his office, closing the door behind him this time around. The Master glared at the coffee. he didn’t ask him to do that either, that was yet another one of his evil schemes the Doctor was somehow evading...by being infuriatingly accommodating.

The Master resisted the urge to shove the cup off the table, that personality quiz that identified him as a tabby cat really changed his perspective on impulsive decisions.

He chose to drink it instead, if only to get it out of his way. A reminded of the Doctor being nice to him was the last thing he needed to concentrate on boring human nonsense.

Three cups of coffee, _and not tea_ , later, he felt so tired the prospect of passing out on his desk sounded like a dream come true. The Master had no idea how he managed to go through his next meeting, nor how another cup of coffee materialized in front of him mid-conference, but he was glad to receive some help.

If only the coffee helped at all.

At some point during the evening he fell asleep, in the middle of his fifth cup, this one brought in his office by a shadow that must’ve been the Doctor, but he was way too tired to recognize.

He was not one for dreams, he rarely dreamed anything, mostly because he rarely slept at all. He was still pleasantly surprised to see that this one time, at least in his dreams, things were working out amazingly. The Doctor was unhappy and powerless, no stupid human companion or TARDIS to save him. He was very pitifully begging for his life, and the Master just laughed maniacally, shaking his fists to the sky in victory.

He was also naked now, they were both naked now. And now they were kissing. That was not part of his schemes at all but the Master was not about to complain. Everything was so close to being perfect in fact, why would he complain at all? If only there wasn’t the insistent sound of a ballpoint pen scribbling...the Master found it infuriatingly distracting, especially when it started dripping into his conscience, just as he bent the Doctor on his desk to-

He woke up.

Damn.

He groaned, saliva pooling between his mouth and the desk, and the edge of the table digging sharply into his ribcage. He lifted his head, groaning again when it started to spin. The sound of scribbling briefly stopped, before resuming when he wiped his face with the back of his hand and pried open his eyes.

It was a blurry mess but the Master was no fool, he’d recognize the Doctor’s unfairly attractive blurry shape everywhere. He was sitting beside him, white shirt and his coat folded on the back of the chair. The Master had to admit he was rather dashing without his coat...yeah, he was just as equally dashing naked in his dream, but that had not been real. He briefly considered doing something about it, before his head spun particularly faster and he gave up hope for the day.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly, his sense of time clicking in before his eyes could finish to adjust.

“It’s ten past midnight.” he frowned.

“It is.” came the calm answer.

The Master leaned back in the chair, stretching with a grunt “What are you still doing here?!”

A bulk of papers slid in front of him.

“I thought I’d finish it for you.” the Doctor said with a smile in his voice.

The Master eyes widened, recognizing the documents he was about to complete before he collapsed on his desk. The Doctor was a disaster with paperwork...he probably just undone everything he did for the whole day. Even when he didn’t know who he was, the Doctor always found a way to ruin his plans, it was so typical of him…

He gritted his teeth, snatching a sheet from the pile.

“You-” his grasp on the page relaxed and his eyebrows rose. It was a perfectly filled request form “You finished it…” he breathed.

“Wasn’t that hard.” the Master glared at him and the Doctor leaned in “I once spent five years in the lab of a military base. You have no idea how many of these forms I had to fill in just to get a decent Allen key.” he confessed, like it was a big secret.

It wasn't. The Master remembered tracking some of those forms down and tearing them apart, only to repent and make sure the Doctor found the instrument he needed on his table the next day. He never told him that when he was stuck with UNIT, and was not about to tell him now.

Especially not when he wanted to snog his face off for helping him in his quest to conquer the world, albeit without knowing it.

“I should go home.”

The Master stood up but quickly regretted it when his study started spinning in front of his eyes, he leaned back against his drawers, gripping them to keep himself upright, and then swayed forward, bracing himself on the desk. Last damn time he did so much bureaucratic work, it was evidently bad for his health.

“I’ll drive you there.” the Doctor said, suddenly standing beside him.

Yeah, sure. Like he was about to let him play the hero.

The Master scoffed “I can manage.”

The only thing he managed was to throw his arm blindly and lose balance, leaning against the Doctor and bracing with both hands on his shoulders. The Doctor reached out, circling him with one arm. Here he was, playing the hero again. The Master decided to leave him this one victory...only because he didn’t care, obviously, not because he could smell his hair from that position and it was a rather pleasant sensation.

“No you can’t.” the Doctor said, resolute, staring at him with calm blue eyes.

Pretty eyes. The Master felt the untamed need to tear them out and keep them for himself. He considered saying it...but decided against it at the last second.

“You are my secretary.” he objected, dismissively.

The Doctor nodded “And I have to obey every single order you give me without doubt or question, I know.”

The Master shivered when he said that, but luckily the Doctor took it as a sign he was tired, and only motioned him to sit back down. He didn’t, he merely pushed his weight a little bit more against the Doctor’s chest. The Master would’ve loved to take credit for that smooth move, but the sad reality was that he was really growing more exhausted by the second.

“So, tell me what to do.” the Doctor said, and it sounded so distant the Master thought he may be sleeping already.

_Kiss me._ His brains shouted in unison.

“Drive me home.” his treacherous mouth drawled, before he collapsed, falling both in the Doctor’s and in Morpheus arms.

  
  


\-----

  
  


The Master woke up the next morning, face down in his bed, dressed in his suit, shoes still on. How inconsiderate of the Doctor, he could’ve at least took his shoes off. Maybe even strip him down and curl naked in bed with him, it wasn’t that much to ask.

He fired two of his personal staff just to calm his nerves, got his driver to take him to work, and made the mental note not to drink any coffee. He would not be smitten by the Doctor’s indecent seduction tactics, today was the day he finally got his revenge on him.

Today was also conference day, apparently, since his whole morning and a good part of the afternoon was occupied with numerous meetings he didn’t even remember agreeing to. He spent them all tapping his foot, urging people on and looking around, wondering why the Doctor hadn’t came in with his coffee yet. By four in the afternoon, he finally managed to leave the damn conference room, stomping towards his office with the ghost of a future migraine forming in the back of his head.

“Bad day?” the Doctor, finally sitting at his own desk, looked up at him with sympathy all over his face.

The Master just grumbled, marching towards his office with the determination of a soldier. He would not be smitten by the Doctor’s indecent seduction tactics, he repeated himself, even if he looked so damn cute today...all soft locks and smiles, he even changed his waistcoat to match the red colours of his campaign…

“Come over this evening.” the Master blurted out before he could stop himself.

_Now, how the hell did he manage that?_

The Doctor looked up at him, confused. And the Master, with the door handle trapped in his grip, forced a professional smile.

“I need help with other documents.” he explained.

The Doctor nodded, agreeing with other pleasantries the Master was not ready to listen to. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it and burying his face in his hands. Okay...then he would have his revenge...it was all under control. He had control. He was in control.

He was absolutely losing his shit.

The Doctor had opened his car door. The Doctor. The same Doctor he was supposed to humiliate with menial tasks, was willingly doing menial tasks for him. The Master spent the entire trip home biting down on his gloved hand, resisting the urge to jump him right there in his car. Not that he cared about being improper, but he was fairly sure his driver would’ve talked about it. His chance at being prime minister would’ve plummeted into the void if he let himself got caught up in a scandal.

He needed to marry, he decided as they entered his home office, wondering how many humans he’d have to kill to make the marriage between him and the Doctor official. Probably too many, humans were daft like that.

What a bunch of stupid monkeys…

He left that last thought slip out into a mumble, and the Doctor looked up from the floor he had decided to sit on, ignoring the chair the Master offered him.

“What was that?” he asked. The Master waved at him from the table.

“Nothing.” he stalled, wondering why he was that far away from him “You can sit on the chair.” he motioned to the seat beside his.

“I like the floor. It’s comfy.” the Doctor smiled, flipping through another bundle of documents.

He was right, the Master decided as he let himself slide down on the floor beside him, casually letting their knees touch.

It didn’t take much time for the both of them to get the work done. The Master stretched his back with a satisfyed hum, and turned to the Doctor, who was just watching him unnervingly.

“Drink?” the Doctor suggested out of the blue.

The Master scoffed “You don’t drink.”

The Doctor ignored how weird that statement was “Not often.” he commented with a shrug.

The Master nodded, as the Doctor headed to his liquor cabinet without the need of his directions. He came back shortly after with two short glasses of amber liquid. The Master didn’t remember any liquor of that colour in his cabinet, but then again he never looked at what he drank in general.

They didn’t toast, because it seemed awkward and the Master couldn’t find anything to toast to. The Doctor had just ruined all his plans, they could’ve toast at that…he grumbled around the lid of his glass as he started sipping.

The Doctor just stared at him as in contemplation of a painting in a museum. The Master tried to ignore the fluttery feeling it caused him

“You are a remarkable man, Mr Saxon.” he murmured.

The Master spluttered in his drink.

The Doctor ignored it “I’m not very fond of politicians.” you killed many, the Master reminded himself, downing his entire glass in one gulp “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work as hard as you do. It must be very stressful. Take another drink.”

The Master didn’t question how the Doctor had another glass ready for him behind his back, but honestly that was the last of his concerns right now. The Doctor complimenting him was something, a rare something, but it did happen in the past. The Doctor complimenting his work when he was trying to subjugate the universe...

“Thank you.” he wheezed around the knot in his throat.

He downed his second glass before the Doctor could speak again.

“It’s very noble, all the funding you are reserving to this scientific project. It must mean a great deal to you.”

There was a third glass in his hand, the Master just stared at the Doctor, wondering if this was still part of the dream he started yesterday. He sipped his drink, entranced by the fond sound his voice had when talking about an experiment that was anything but noble and scientific. It was an abomination, and if the Doctor knew the truth he would’ve been appalled. The Master considered telling him just to see that hopeful light leave his face, but decided to finish his drink and chuck the glass somewhere behind his back instead.

“John?”

The name sounded weird and wrong, and only partially because he slurred it. He would’ve given away one of his hearts just to call him by his name, and to be called _Master_ back...he ached at the idea.

“Yes, Mr Saxon?”

His mouth did such pretty shapes when he talked. The Master leaned in, his whole side now pressed flush against him.

“I think I’m drunk.”

The Master was going to kiss him, he made it quite clear when he stared at his lips like he was gonna dive in whole. But soon an inconvenient black fog clouded his brain, twirling behind his eyes. His muscles went limp, and when he leant towards the Doctor’s mouth, he lost balance, falling into a mouthful of the Doctor’s hair, before his world spun into oblivion.

  
  


\-----

  
  


When he woke up, the Master stirred. He pleasantly noted how he had no shoes on this time, and had been carefully tucked under the covers. He snuggled the pillow he had embraced at some point in his slumber, and hummed contently, relishing in the warmth of his bedsheets, and the faint memory of a dream on the verge of slipping away from him. He tried to catch it, forcing himself back to sleep, but the thrill of the curtain opening tore the memory away from him, as the bright light of the sun burned behind his lids.

The Master groaned, turning the other side. He mentally added another member of his staff to the daily firing list.

As a weight set beside him, a familiar voice called his name.

The Master’s eyes sprung open. He spun to see the Doctor, sitting on his bedside with a cheery smile.

“Doc... _John_?” he caught himself, gulping.

“Good morning.”

The Master frowned, looking around in confusion. He snatched the pillow he was still holding behind his back, and forced himself to sit down.

“What are you doing in my house?” he asked when the Doctor didn’t speak.

“You asked me to help you with those forms yesterday night, remember?” The Doctor offered.

“Oh, right…”

The Master stared at a distant point in his room, memories of the previous night coming back to him in waves. He was about to inquire on where exactly did the Doctor sleep, when something heavy was placed either side of his lap.

The Master looked down, to see a tastefully arranged wooden tray with what looked like breakfast for five. If the Doctor wasn’t still placing it in his lap, the Master would’ve believed he was dreaming it. He looked at the food like it was gonna attack him.

The Doctor chuckled to himself.

“Orange juice, strawberry jam toast, not sure what this is but-” he snatched the fork from the plate, getting a mouthful of it. His eyes widening as he pointed enthusiastically at the dish with his fork “oh, scrambled eggs, it’s very good.” he laughed, mouth still full “Blueberry pancakes, coffee and...I think that’s all.”

The Master stared at the tray, not entirely sure what to feel but sheer panic.

“You brought me breakfast in bed.” he wheezed.

“I did.” the Doctor answered, matter-of-factly.

“ _You…_ ” he paused, almost asking “...brought me breakfast in bed.”

“They didn’t let me cook it.” the Master’s eyes snapped up at him, staring like he was confessing a crime. The Doctor shrugged “I tried, but the guy in charge of the kitchens...Tom, I think, was rather rude about that.”

The Master distractingly noted the name in the list of people he would’ve fired that day. Before taking in a breath and folding his hands in his lap.

“Mr. Smith, have you got the slightest idea of how infuriating this makes you?” he said, evenly.

The Doctor froze, taken aback “Is that a formal complaint?”

“Yes.” he breathed, eyes falling to his lips, unblinking “You’re fired.”

The Doctor deadpanned “Ah…”

“This would be incredibly unprofessional otherwise.”

The Doctor frowned, tilting his stupidly pretty head of stupidly pretty hair “What w-”

The Master grabbed the lapels of his coat and dragged him down into a kiss, swallowing whatever daft nonsense he was about to ask. The Doctor seemed startled at first, clearly concerned for the tray of food now dangerously tilted in the other’s lap. The Master shifted his hands from his lapels, burying them in his hair, and tugged him closer, hell-bent on making him forget about the damn breakfast.

The Doctor made a weird whimper and finally decided to reciprocate, reaching up to hold the Master’s face and diving deeper into the kiss. Something tipped over the tray, probably the orange juice, and as much as it broke one of the Master’s heart to know all the Doctor’s work had been for nothing, another part of him couldn’t help but smirk. Because if there was something he was hungry for now it was not food.

The Master hooked an arm around him and spun them to the other side of the bed. The tray fell somewhere between their legs, the floor, and the sheets, and according to the sound of ceramic shattering and metal clinking, something definitely broke in the process. Not that the Master cared about his cutlery, not when he had the Doctor pinned on the bed, with his tongue two inches inside his mouth, and his hands under his shirt, but he was happy to take note of the damages and detract it from his wage nonetheless.

They got each other naked embarrassingly fast, at least naked enough for the Master’s hands to roam low on the Doctor’s body and tear out a string of happy noises from him. The Doctor’s hands weren’t idle either, as far as the Master was concerned he must’ve grown another pair, because they were _everywhere_. Holding his face, pressing against his throat, scraping down his sides and below his navel, to take a hold of him and tugging him forward.

The Master groaned against his mouth, taking the hint and settling himself between his legs. He pushed inside him, swallowing their moans with a kiss. They always fit together like they were meant to, no matter the regeneration, and this one time wasn’t different.

He considered taking it slow. It was not his style this time around, but it didn’t look like the Doctor’s style either, if his thighs squeezing the Master’s sides to urge him on were something to go by. And really, it had been a while since the Master properly watched him squirm under his hands...

But by the time the Doctor started raking his fingernails along his spine, and kissing his face, the Master was too far gone to care for strategy or plans.

Not that any other plan he tried worked so far, the Doctor had resisted every single one of his attempts at humiliating him. In two days he not only managed to make himself more and more pleasant to be around, but also (cluelessly) helped him with his plans to conquer Earth, and brought him breakfast in bed.

It was a disaster. Everything was a disaster, in fact. His bedsheets were ruined, he had orange juice drying sticky on his legs and was about to come way too soon...but hell if it wasn’t worth it just to see those pretty blue eyes flutter close in bliss with every thrust.

The Master started to feel the lack of the Doctor’s mind gently pressing beside his. Without the Doctor there with him, the Master’s always tended to drift into darker places, and it didn’t take much for him to feel stranded at sea. He grew restless, losing control, feeling the unhealthy need to tear him apart, to bite and scratch him until he could crawl his way inside him and nestle between his hearts forever. The Doctor tenderly kissed his forehead, like he knew. And maybe it wasn’t quite the same thing as having him holding his mind together from the inside, but the tide in the Master’s head slowly went out nonetheless.

They came together. Because they always did, like it was meant to be like that. And the Master held him tighter as he shivered through it, finding the strength to raise his head and look him in the eye only after several seconds of silent breathing.

The Doctor lazily smiled at him, entwining their fingers together, and the Master wished he could make him feel how his mind twisted when he did that. When the Master pinned his hand against the bed, gripping tighter, sinking him further into the mattress with a searing kiss, he wished at least one of the Doctor’s hearts would stop, just to make him understand how fiercely he felt like dying when he offered him his love.

The Doctor smiled in the kiss, cradling his head with his other hand, stroking his cheek, sliding it down to a pressure point in his neck-

_Shit._

The Master cursed under his breath when an unnatural curtain of black void fell in front of his eyes.

_Venusian Aikido_

He just used Venusian Aikido on him...in _bed_! And didn’t even let him finish to savour his well earned afterglow.

Next time, he thought with the last of his functioning brain cells, next time he would have his revenge.

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Doctor!” Lucie shouted in relief when he stumbled inside the TARDIS.

“We need to hurry!” he said, running to the controls.

“ _We_ need to hurry?! I’ve been waiting two hours for-” she froze “You stink like orange juice.” she leaned in, sniffing his shoulder “And coffee.”

He glared at her, because how dare she “Lucie, I don’t tell you you stink!”

“Yeah, you better, cause I don’t.” she crossed her arms, waiting for his witty comeback.

The Doctor ignored her, walking around the console to activate the TARDIS controls instead.

“All dealt with?” Lucie asked once they were in flight.

The Doctor nodded, finally relaxing against the controls. He rummaged in his pocket, fishing out a crumpled stack of various documents and technical sketches.

“All dealt with. No Cybermen prototype plans to get approved, no new Earth-born improved Cybermen army in 2037.” he exclaimed, taking a step back when Lucie started nearing him with a suspicious glare. He placed the papers on a nearby table “I’m sorry poor Harold Saxon almost ended up involved in this.” he murmured to himself.

“Poor Harold Saxon? He would deserve it, the man is an asshole.” Lucie scoffed behind him.

“Don’t use that language, the TARDIS doesn’t like it.” he mumbled, distracted.

“You only have one shoe on.” Lucie commented and he spun around, putting a little more distance between them “So, spiking his drink worked?”

The Doctor felt a pang of guilt twisting in his chest.

“Yes, but he was remarkably resistant to it, it took five doses yesterday and three the day before.” he said “I also had to make sure he stayed asleep this morning too, I needed to search in his room for more hidden Cybermen plans.”

“How?” Lucie asked, suddenly beside him.

The Doctor walked to the other side of the control “How what?”

Lucie followed him “How did you make sure he was asleep- Why is your cravat tied so high?”

She reached out, tugging at the collar of his shirt and he jerked away, laughing nervously.

“Lucie would you stop-hey!”

With a gasp, Lucie retracted her hand like she just burned herself, her mouth closing into a tight line. Humans had the weirdest reactions, the Doctor was fairly sure that mustn't have been the first hickie she ever saw in her life-

Lucie mouth opened “Of course...ruffled hair, missing clothes…” she pointed at his clothes and then stared him straight in the face, her index an inch from his nose “You shagged him?!”

“Lucie! Language!” the Doctor hushed her, glancing at the Time Rotor. As to prove his point, the TARDIS made a displeased _vworp_ , but Lucie ignored it completely.

“Oh my god!” she deadpanned when he didn't contradict her “You-... _y_ _i_ _kes_.”

The Doctor felt his hearts shatter “Lucie Miller, I’m disappointed. I would’ve never expected such a narrow mindset from you.”

“Oh, never mind that! You know what the yikes part is!” she barked.

The Doctor averted his eyes, getting busy with a set of control that definitely didn’t need his attentions. He briefly glanced in her general direction and started pacing the room.

“He’s just deeply misunderstood.” he said.

Lucie’s mouth fell open “He’s mean, and he’s rude and he’s an absolute psychopath!!!”

“Yes, that must be one of the reasons...” he mumbled more to himself than to her.

Lucie’s face contorted into a hundred version of disgusted before settling on an incredulous sneer. She ultimately scoffed, raising her hands in surrender.

“You have... _weird_ tastes.” she snorted, heading towards her room.

“Tell me about it…” he huffed with a thin smile, thinking about someone that definitely was not Harold Saxon, but somehow reminded the Doctor of him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to promise myself I wouldn't write again about 8 and Simm's Master but my favourites are showing. I'm not good at writing smut, take this barely descriptive sex scene instead. If you're here and you read the whole thing, wow how did you do it? and thank you!


End file.
